The Monster Inside
by Mr-Dippingsauce
Summary: Gideon Gleeful never wanted to move to Gravity Falls. But soon he discovers a book, a book that unleashes a monster within him. ow he must follow the demon's instructions to save him and the people around him. Takes place in an AU. Fav, follow, and review!


_**Hello, guys. This is based off an idea I has for a Gideon origins AU I had a while back. Please, if there is something you think I can improve, please say so in the reviews. I'm a big boy. I can take criticism. That being said, I hope you enjoy this story!-Mr-Dippingsauce**_

**Chapter One**

The car pulled up into the driveway, and a child cautiously peeked out of the back window. He had pleaded for his parents not to go through with this. He begged them to stay in their comfortable Georgia home, where at least there were kids who didn't hate him. But no, they had to move up to some town he had never heard of.

"The people of Gravity Falls need to be shown a REAL car salesman/restoration, uh, person, son!"

Why? Why did they? He'd never heard of Gravity Falls before the day his parents announced that they were moving. He'd checked several maps, and most didn't even mention the small Oregon town. What made it more special than his old home? He'd love to run in the warm summer air. Here, rain continued to pour down from dark clouds. Shadows fell to ground from the trees, their darkness shrouding the world.

Not only that, he knew there was some other ulterior motive for the move. His dad had never been any good at concealing when he knew so eying others didn't. There was something else, but he couldn't think of what. His dad, after all, was a used car salesperson. It wasn't like he did much.

He adjusted his forest green visor as the three hopped out of their old car. According to Gideon's dad, it was a 1976 Camaro, not that it made any difference to him. He lacked what his father called an "appreciation" for old cars, though he considered it more of an absolute obsession. At his last count, his dad subscribed to seven newsletters about the _exciting world of classic cars!_

"We'll, what do you think sugar pie?" His father inquired, snapping the nine year old out of his thoughts.

The walls were covered in blue lace wallpaper. The carpet looked like it might have been around long enough to get stepped on by a dinosaur, or maybe a mastodon, and it was _pink_ for heaven's sake. The kitchen counter was covered in alternating pink and white tiles, and had a small white fridge tucked in a corner

"It looks like the home of a seventy year old woman." he replied.

Bud awkwardly laughed. "It's-it's all right Gideon. I'm sure you'll get used to it."

The child, however, wasn't so sure.

XXXXXXXX

At last everything had been unloaded, and most unpacked, and Gideon could finally slump down in a chair. He glanced at his father, who was finishing hanging up a painting. His large body moved, and Gideon groaned. It was _the _painting.

"Father, do we really want that hanging there?"

"Where were you thinking, son?"

"How about somewhere only a few people can see it? Like in the basement. In a corner. Underneath a heavy filing cabinet."

"I don't see the problem you have with this painting, Gideon. I mean, everyone likes clowns!"

"People like money too. You don't see them buying paintings of dollars do you?"

"Say, that's not a bad idea..."

Gideon threw his hands in the air. "I give up." He said.

He heard his father chuckling to himself as he walked up the stairs towards the room where his bed was. It wasn't his bedroom; that was back in Georgia. It would never be his bedroom. It would never live up to the warmth, the good feeling he had when curled up under his sheets in his old room. They were the same sheets, but now they seemed rough, cold, and unfeeling. Gideon sighed and glanced out the window. He could see as few houses outside his window. He was sure that the people were nice enough, but you couldn't keep a bolt in if the nut didn't fit.

Great, now he was using car metaphors like his dad. This day could not get any worse.

He made one more glance towards the forest, and stopped in his tracks. Staring out from the blackness were two enormous glowing eyes.

"Prob...Probably just a bear."

Apparently the moon thought otherwise.

The clouds moved away from its milky white image, and rays of light hit the creature's back.

Gideon gulped. "Nope. Definitely _not _a bear_._"

The beast was an enormous mass. Dark green scales covered its bulky frame. Razor sharp fangs protruded from its mouth, drool dribbling out of it. Fungus covered its enormous back.

And that was just the half Gideon could see.

He took all of this in a second, and closed the blinds just as quickly. He panted, horrified. _What was that thing?_

XXXXXXXX

Bud Gleeful held his hat close to his head as the wind howled. He was right; he should have brought a jacket. Not only would it have been smarter, it would have been more inconspicuous.

And when meeting the head of one of the most powerful secret organizations in the U.S., being inconspicuous was a priority.

He arrived at the front of a large house; probably the largest there was in the town. Cautiously, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. It would. E especially embarrassing if the cops saw him and thought that he was attempting to break in.

After making sure no one saw, which included shooing away a black tabby with a proliferation towards settling disputes with violence, Bud entered the 4 digit code the man on the phone had given him.

Something clicked, and the iron gate swung open. Bud gulped, and strode up to the white front door.

He raised his fist, intending to knock, but the door swung open, a young male on the other side. "The Councilor is expecting you." he informed Bud. "Upper floor, door at the end of the hallway to your left."

"Th-thank you." Bud was unnerved by the promptness in which he was ushered into the house. He walked up the stairs to the specified door. Along the hallway, there were several banners, all bearing the same emblem.

The symbol of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel.

At the end of the hallway, he nervously knocked on the door. He noticed that his hands were shaking.

The door swung open, and a tall man no younger than fifty stood in the doorway.

"Bud Gleeful," he said. "You're late."


End file.
